


Not What She Intended

by matteblack



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, MercyxReaper - Freeform, Multi, Overwatch - Freeform, it's gonna get nsfw at some point, m ERCYKILL TRASH, this is also gonna be really big and wHOA i'm excited
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-25 07:29:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7523902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matteblack/pseuds/matteblack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This time, he'll finish the job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not What She Intended

Angela Ziegler paid no mind to the heavy footfalls echoing down the hall to her lab, squinting as she injected a solution into a petri dish and firmly applied the lid over her latest breakthrough. The translucent liquid, a brilliant synthesis of nanobiotic and medicinal ingenuity, was the third attempt in as many days to find a cure to remedy an illness that few had ever encountered and fewer still had ever come to suffer… or survive. 

Throughout her time as an Overwatch agent, Angela (known then as Mercy) had regarded herself as a paragon of peace and a symbol of kindness, dedicating her life and expertise to soothing the wounds of the sick around the world and serving as a beacon of hope for those who had none wherever calamity struck.

Ostensibly, even after the resolution over the Omnic Crisis and the subsequent dissolution of her team, Angela had found meaning in healing the sick and lending them her aid; so it was to her surprise that as she worked to erase the calamity that had befallen the world, she had created something much more catastrophic with her very own hands.

Examining the petri dish under a microscope, Mercy sighed. The footsteps, she noted absently, were getting closer.

Five years had passed since then…five years of static, of loneliness, of grief.

Angela missed everything.

She missed her team, her friends, her family; she missed the strength she felt under Morrison’s watchful leadership, the way that she and Reinhardt would banter in Deutsch in front of their friends just for the laughs - she even had a precious photo taken with Torbjörn one Halloween taped to her lab wall, a constant reminder of the better times between them before everything had fallen apart.

But she was not to suffer forever; three days ago, a call had come through to her communicator, waking her from sleep as bombs rained on her shelter from the surface. After years of white noise, a friend had sent a flare for help; Winston’s distress call had simultaneously sent a thrill of relief and a streak of dread down her spine as he recalled her, urging her to rejoin him and return back where she belonged.

The scientist had offered grave tidings ill-fitting of true reunion. The world was not at peace; in the fallout the war, something more deadly had risen from the ashes. 

Something that Angela had quickly realised that she alone was responsible for.

The halls were silent now.

“Sprechstunde bei der Frau Doktor,” murmured Mercy as she stood up straight and pressed the petri dish into its rack, refusing to turn to face her guest; she’d been waiting for this day and the shame of her guilt was already too much to bear. “It has been a long time, Reyes.”

Hot breath caressed Ziegler’s neck as Gabriel Reyes pressed himself against her back, thin tendrils of vapour curling from the vents in his Reaper mask as he rested his chin against the doctor’s shoulder. Threading his arm around her waist, he held her hip gently as his other hand lifted to her face, claws pressing delicately to her cheek as he turned her head to face him.

This was no lover’s embrace; with so much as a flick of his wrist he could snap her neck and exact the price of his vengeance, but even for him there were sweeter things than death and it was with an afterthought of regret that he held his composure. 

“Whose life are you planning to ruin next, doc? That doesn’t look like medicine to me,” he growled softly into her ear, laughing gently as she tried to turn her face away. He stroked her face with two talons, clicking his tongue. “I think you’re in breach of the Hippocratic Oath. But this isn’t news to you, is it?” He pulled away in apparent disgust, allowing the doctor to compose herself as the feeling of her trembling skin faded from his fingertips; from beneath his mask, Reyes smiled.

Rubbing at her neck, Mercy turned. Her cerulean eyes bore only sadness and her tone was soft as she spoke, leaning back against her desk. “Gabriel, I…” She trailed off, looking down at the floor. It didn’t matter how many times she said it. She had nothing left to offer him now. 

When was the last time she had seem him whole? Angela studied the hooded man as he stared back at her through eyes she couldn’t see, a twinge of guilt piercing her heart. 

The reaper could only laugh, his bitterness evident as it tapered into a growl. “Nothing to say, angel? I expected not,” he spat, beginning to pace around her lab. The space around them was a bastion of medical technology and innovation, white-walled and covered ceiling to floor in equipment. “Is this where you’ve been all this time? Tinkering with your alchemy whilst I wasted away?”

Unbeknownst to all but the UN, they were nestled in the heart of the Middle East, an underground facility built at Mercy’s request in recompense for her work on the field. She had stationed herself there for the past few months, on her regular route around war-torn countries.

In truth, it was a second iteration of such a complex; the original had been destroyed long ago, and its tomb housed her regrets - no doubt that Reyes was beginning to notice the similarities to his grave as he scoffed at her equipment.

Uncomfortably, Angela stood straight, her arms folded across her stomach. “I have tried to find a cure, Reyes… the decomposition of your cells are too fast and the regeneration is equally tumultuous. If I were to even try to stop the erosion, it would kill you. Please believe that if I could, I…”

She was cut off by a harsh growl. 

The ex-Blackwatch agent closed the gap between them in a swirl of darkened mist and reached for her throat, pressing her back into the desk. “I didn’t come here for your excuses.” He ignored her as she struggled with the claws at her jugular, pinning her to the table with his hips. “Not here for a courtesy call, either. There’s a time and a place to deal with what you’ve done to me, but that time is not now.”

He paused for a moment as shame coursed through his veins, his fingers twitching, ready to crunch her neck into splinters.

“I need your help.”

**Author's Note:**

> hAHAHA OH SHIT i haven't written fan fiction since i was like 14 so i'm sORRY this is probably awful
> 
> who knows if this is even accurate or whatever SHRUGS it's been three days since winston made the call and mercy's got a time bomb on her hands /slowcap 4am fanfiction is great
> 
> anyway this is all largely inspired by the dialogue between mercy/reaper and it heavily implies that she's the reason that reyes ends up the way he does... it makes me vERY HAPPY and i want them to hatefuck so that's gonna be a thing lmao goodbye,
> 
> i have a theory that after he and morrison blew HQ up mercy managed to find his body and tried her hardest to save him using untested medicines and experiments... but he Came Back Wrong and obviously he's out for revenge now.... as for morrison, who knows how he's going to interact with her in this fic? >:^) 
> 
> anyway this is going to be a really big project for me and it's probably gonna have everyone show up at some point so i hope you all enjoy what i've written even though it's just trash tbh
> 
> what could reaper want.......... *whispers* is it.... the fucc....
> 
> anyway go listen to 'omens' by disclosure/sam smith it's my ship song and the title namer for this chapter!


End file.
